


Better Than Revenge

by trespresh



Series: One of Those Nights [2]
Category: One Direction (Band), X Factor RPF
Genre: Anal Play, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Begging, Butt Plugs, Cock Rings, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-05
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:55:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trespresh/pseuds/trespresh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where, after being forced to perform all hot and  bothered when Niall blows him five minutes before they go on stage, Liam finally gets his revenge on that sneaky little blonde. (Niam).</p><p>Sequel to One of Those Nights</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [One of Those Nights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/619494) by [trespresh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trespresh/pseuds/trespresh). 



> _It’s been two weeks since Liam had curled into his bunk after the show was over and they were all back in the tour bus, his laptop sitting comfortably against his knees and Louis at his side as they’d planned Liam’s carnal revenge._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _And half an hour ago, that carnal revenge arrived in a discreet, unlabeled brown box._

Things have been… good. It’s been two weeks since Niall’s situation had last gotten out of hand, since that night when he’d been passed from Louis and Harry’s flat, to Zayn’s, and finally to Liam’s. It’s been two weeks since _that show._

 _That show,_ when Liam had picked his jaw up off the floor, hastily tucking himself back into his trousers and buttoning them before racing out of the dressing room after the mischievous blonde. Two weeks since they had stood in the wings of _that stage_ , adjusting their earpieces against the deafening screams of the crowd, when Niall had turned to Liam and pointedly licked his lips with a wink which the older boy had tried desperately to ignore. Two weeks since he’d bounded onto the stage behind his bandmates, his face flushed and his breathing still not back to normal, wondering how in the hell he’d be able to sing his way through the entire show when all he could think of was Niall’s stupid, sinful mouth.

It’s been two weeks since Liam had curled into his bunk after the show was over and they were all back in the tour bus, his laptop sitting comfortably against his knees and Louis at his side as they’d planned Liam’s carnal revenge.

And half an hour ago, that carnal revenge arrived in a discreet, unlabeled brown box.

Paul had delivered the small box to him right after tonight’s show, telling him with a playful roll of his eyes to, “never order shit online while on tour again because it’s too much work to get packages to you guys.” Liam, for his part, had only nodded his head vaguely, paying little attention to anything other than the box in his hands.

Now here he is, hunched over in his bunk, the small brown box empty and thrown haphazardly at the foot of the bunk, its contents lying harmlessly in front of him. He picks up the first object in one hand, letting his fingers run curiously across the smooth, solid black silicone. He carefully picks up the second item, holding it between his thumb and forefinger and examining it closely, testing the elasticity.

Just as he’s packing the two items back into the small box, Niall’s loud laugh rings out from the front of the bus, where the rest of the boys are lounging. With a slow smirk, Liam pushes the box into the corner of his bunk and covers it with a blanket.

He crawls down from his bunk, entertaining the idea that Niall probably thinks he’s completely gotten away with his little stunt from two weeks ago. With an ill-concealed grin, Liam makes his way to the front of the bus to hang around with the boys.

Tomorrow will be fun.

____________________________

“Guys, we’re gunna head into the venue soon. ‘Bout a half hour. Just a heads up,” Paul alerts them, receiving acknowledging grunts and mumbles before retreating down the bus stairs.

Liam’s heart rate picks up the slightest bit and he clears his throat. “Hey, Ni?”

The blonde looks up from his sandwich with a questioning raise of his eyebrow, his t-shirt falling to the side just enough to reveal a sliver of the faded bite mark from Louis. Liam’s eyes catch on the almost-healed bruise for a moment before he meets Niall’s gaze.

“Will you come back to the lounge with me for a sec? I need to, uh, show you something.”

Niall hums and nods, setting his food down and standing. Zayn continues playing on his phone uninterestedly but Louis looks up excitedly from the video game he’s playing with a distracted Harry.

Louis’ eyebrows raise expectantly, an eager grin stretching his face. He mouths, _revenge?_

A hint of a mischievous grin quirks Liam’s lip and he gives a quick nod. Louis winks, expressing his appreciation for the kinkiness of the situation.

Liam leads Niall to the back lounge, having already hidden the small brown box and a full bottle of lube in the room beforehand. He sits on the couch, patting his knees until Niall crawls into his lap, one knee on either side of Liam’s hips. Niall naturally drapes his arms around Liam’s neck, playing with the short hairs at the nape as he smiles down at Liam, their faces inches apart. Their lips meet in a soft, innocent kiss. Liam lets his hands rest heavily on Niall’s thin hips, his thumbs stroking circles into the tops of Niall’s thighs. As they continue to kiss lightly, Liam’s hands trail around to cup Niall’s ass, tugging him closer and sparking a harder, hungrier turn in their kiss.

Niall’s tongue slips into Liam’s mouth while Liam’s fingers curl into the soft skin above the waistband of Niall’s sweats. Niall scoots up Liam’s thighs, arching so there’s no space between their bodies, rocking his hips lightly at first and then more desperately against Liam’s. A soft groan escapes his lips, swallowed and then echoed by Liam. Heatedly, Liam drops his head to kiss his way down Niall’s neck, nipping at the exposed collarbone. Niall gasps and lets his head fall back. Liam quickly trails wet kisses back up to Niall’s jaw until their lips collide again.

Tightening his grip on Niall’s ass, Liam maneuvers them across the couch, dropping Niall on his back and then falling between his spread legs to reconnect their lips. Niall’s nimble fingers slip beneath the hem of Liam’s shirt, trailing up and caressing the warm skin as he pushes the shirt up and over Liam’s head. Soon enough, Niall’s shirt follows and is flung to the floor as well.

“Fuck, Liam,” he pants, leaning his head back, his chest heaving, as the older boy practically tears Niall’s sweats down to his thighs. He leans down, mouthing at his dick through the black briefs before yanking those down as well. Niall tenses and groans beneath him, and Liam grins to himself. He runs his tongue up Niall’s length, root to tip, and kisses the tip playfully. When he looks up, Niall’s eyes are closed, his fists clenched into the sides of the couch.

Liam bites his tongue to hold back his excited giggle, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to those swollen, pink lips, and bends over the side of the couch to retrieve the box from underneath it.

“What…What’re ya doing?” Niall says breathlessly, his eyes now open and watching Liam with a lust that evaporates when Liam hums and lifts the unlabeled box into his view.

 “Did you really think I’d forgotten about your little trick two weeks ago?” Liam’s voice is quietly teasing, and Niall freezes beneath him.

Liam opens the box, pulling out first the lube, then the flexible ring, and lastly, the smooth, black object. He sets the three items on Niall’s stomach and tosses the box aside, finally meeting Niall’s startlingly wide eyes. The corner of his full lips twitches up.

“This,” he says, holding up the first item, “is a cock ring. And this,” he lifts the black object, “is a butt plug.”

Niall flushes, still too horrified to move.

“And _you,_ ” Liam’s voice drops as he presses another, more gentle kiss to Niall’s frozen lips, “are going to wear them through the whole show tonight. Then maybe you’ll learn not to pull anything like that again.”

Niall swallows thickly. “Liam…I’m sorry,” he pleads.

Liam cocks his head, coating his fingers generously in lube and giving Niall’s cock a quick stroke. He smiles sweetly. “Good. What’s your safeword?”

Niall still hasn’t taken his wide eyes off of the ring and plug, the latter of which Liam has taken into his hand again.

“I-I love you,” he stutters, still frozen beneath the older boy.

“Aww,” Liam coos, his smile genuine and adoring, “I love you too, Nialler.”

Niall’s face splits in a happy grin, a light blush high on his cheeks, and he relaxes under Liam.

“But that won’t save you.”

Niall’s grin disappears. He squirms, trying to sink back into the couch and away from Liam’s teasing vengeance.

“What’s your safeword, Niall?” Liam questions nonchalantly, distractedly coating the plug with lube while Niall stares, sagging in defeat.

“Batman,” he whispers.

“Good boy.” Liam gives his cock another languid stroke before nudging insistently at Niall’s hip. “Turn over.”

“Fuck, Liam,” Niall whimpers, twisting over onto his stomach and rutting his cock into the couch to gain some friction. Liam pulls impatiently at his hips until Niall rests up on his knees and elbows, his ass in the air.

“Do you trust me?” Liam asks, his voice softer, more careful. He’d done his research online on how to safely use a plug, of course, and the plug itself is only the size of two fingers at its widest, but he doesn’t want to hurt Niall. He traces his finger around Niall’s entrance and waits.

“I trust you,” Niall confirms quietly, his voice muffled as he pushes his face into the cushions.

“What’s your safeword?” He has to ask again. He has to be sure Niall won’t hesitate to use it.

Niall turns his head over his shoulder, holding Liam’s gaze. “I trust you, Liam.”

“ _Safeword_?”

Niall sighs. “Batman.”

Liam pushes a lubricated finger past the tight ring of muscle, rubbing at Niall’s hip reassuringly. He allows Niall only a few moments to adjust before adding a second finger beside the first and scissoring them. He smiles lightly at Niall’s soft keen and after a minute, adds a third finger, just to be safe.

“I don’t understand how you’re still always so tight,” Liam grunts, pressing his lips to the dimples in the small of Niall’s back. He twists his finger to prod at Niall’s prostate and thumbs at his perineum simultaneously, if only to be sure Niall’s erection doesn’t wane before he can get the cock ring on. The answering scream of pleasure is immediate, and Liam doesn’t bother quieting him.

Quickly, Liam pulls his fingers out and reaches for the plug, smearing more lube on and easing it into Niall’s body. Niall lets out a grunt, fidgeting as he adjusts to the feeling.

“How d’you feel?” Liam asks.

Another grunt. “’S okay.”

“Good.” Liam twists the plug slightly, tugging on it and reveling in the reactionary moan Niall releases. “Good?”

Niall hums.

“Okay. Now flip over again. Careful—hey, go slow—”

Niall’s on his back again, staring up at Liam, pupils blown, eyes dark. He squirms, every move he makes affecting the plug, pushing it deeper, forcing it hard against his prostate. “Liam,” he groans, low and carnal in a way that has Liam’s dick twitching in his pants.

Liam swallows, thoroughly turned on by the sight before him. He runs his hand roughly across the bottom half of his face, his eyes never leaving Niall’s. He reaches for the cock ring, lifting it into Niall’s view and making a show of stretching it.

“I’m gunna put this on you now, okay?” Liam’s own voice is husky, slightly labored, and Niall nods. “It’ll stretch as much as it needs to. It won’t hurt, but it’ll be a little uncomfortable, okay?” Niall only nods again, appreciating in the back of his mind that Liam is carefully going over all of this with him. “It’ll stop you from coming,” Liam finishs, watching Niall’s complacent reaction.

“I trust you.”

Liam nods to himself, stroking Niall’s throbbing dick once more before sliding the ring down his length, stretching it over his balls until it rests snugly in place. He looks up worriedly at Niall’s eyes clenched shut.

“You okay?”

Niall nods frantically. “Yeah. Yeah, feels…good. Aches.”

Liam lets out a laugh. “’Kay,” he grins, pulling Niall’s briefs up and tucking his reddening cock into the waistband. He pulls Niall’s sweatpants back into place as well, grabbing his hand and helping him up into a sitting position, the loud, pleasured groan Niall breathes making his head spin.

“Oh, god, Liam. Fuck, god,” Niall pants, his face flushed and his breathing uneven. He palms himself through his sweats, making Liam grin.

“You’ll only make it worse,” he scolds, but pushes his own hand into Niall’s briefs anyway, swiping his thumb over the slit playfully. Niall groans heavily and leans forward to rest his head against Liam’s shoulder.

“You’re g-gunna kill me, Li,” he whimpers, trying to sit as still as possible so as to not jumble the plug. So many sensations assault him at once: Liam’s hand in front, his other hand sneaking around back to press gently at the plug, the plug itself scraping deliciously at his inner walls. He can’t help the yelp that escapes when Liam tugs on the plug. “I…I can’t go on st-stage like this.”

Liam smiles against Niall’s hair, dropping his head to capture Niall’s earlobe between his teeth. He twists the plug one more time, feeling Niall’s breathy moan against his shoulder, before retracting both of his hands from Niall’s sweatpants.

“Now you know how I felt,” he says, the smile never leaving his face. “Come on, think you can stand?”

Slowly, Niall clambers to his feet, shivering as the plug shifts with every move he makes, and resists the urge to palm himself. He shuffles forward behind Liam, getting used to the heavy feel of the plug as he walks. After a few steps, he finds he can walk normally if he just doesn’t focus on the delicious pull of the toy.

Together they make their way back up to the front of the bus. Louis immediately looks up when they enter, a knowing smile on his face.

“How you doing, there, Niall?”

Niall blushes and looks down, avoiding Zayn’s gaze as Zayn looks up as well. Harry, however, still hasn’t torn his eyes from his video game.

Louis smirks when Niall’s silence answers the question for him. “Learned your lesson, then, huh.”

Zayn’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Lesson?”

“Not yet, he hasn’t,” Liam answers Louis, ignoring the alarmed look Niall sends up at him.

_Jesus, as if he hasn’t already been through enough… what else does Liam have planned?_

Niall blanches at the thought, his expression not gone unnoticed by the other three boys.

When they finally begin making their way off the bus and into the venue, Harry tilts his head to the side and studies Niall’s slightly bow-legged gait.

“You okay, Niall? You’re walking funny,” he asks.

Louis leans forward to whisper in his ear. Harry’s eyes widen in realization as Louis explains, his eyes flicking down to Niall’s lower region. Niall blushes.

An amused smile stretches across Harry’s face. “Oh, _this_ is gunna be good.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _They’re going to torture him on stage tonight. He just knows it. He’s already teetering on the edge of sweet, orgasmic oblivion as it is, and there’s well over an hour before they actually go on stage._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY SHIT I AM SORRY EVERYONE  
> I totally thought this second part was posted already and I just realized it wasn't. I'm awful, I'm the worst, but please still love me? Read on!

_Not yet, he hasn’t._

Niall thinks back to Liam’s earlier words to Louis. _Not yet, he hasn’t._

They’re going to torture him on stage tonight. He just knows it. He’s already teetering on the edge of sweet, orgasmic oblivion as it is, and there’s well over an hour before they actually go on stage.

Oh god. What if it all becomes too much and he _comes on stage?_ What if he fucking creams his trousers in front of tens of thousands of screaming fans?

(He’s never been more thankful for the invention of the cock ring.)

Niall’s stretched as comfortably as possible—which, in his current predicament, isn’t really all that relaxing—across the leather couch in their dressing room, his arm thrown over his eyes and his teeth grinding forcefully. He rotates his hips hard back against the couch, unashamedly reaching his unoccupied hand down into his sweats to drag his thumb over the head of his swollen dick. He releases the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, a low gasp laced with a barely-there needy whine filling the room.

Okay. So maybe he’s torturing _himself_ a little bit. So maybe he’s succumbing to a purely carnal and desperate state in a fairly public area, where any of the tech crew or roadies might walk in and see him laying here with his hand down his pants.

But fuck them. Fuck the roadies who might see. Fuck Louis for laughing good-naturedly at him. Fuck Harry and Zayn for being way too amused by the whole situation. And fuck Liam. Stupid, conniving Liam who planned this whole thing. Fuck Liam and his stupid, beautiful, big puppy dog eyes and his defined abs; Fuck Liam and his stupid cropped hair and his pouty lips and his deep voice that moans Niall’s name so sinfully when Niall’s naked and bouncing up and down in Liam’s lap.

Goddamnit, he really wants to fuck Liam.

He rolls his hips alternatively up into his own hand and down against the couch, not even bothering to stifle his whimpers. He’s so close, always so close, but he just can’t fall over the edge, can’t reach that temporary bliss that’s so lovingly dancing in his lower stomach, teasing him and making the corners of his vision blur.

“Jesus Christ, Niall, you should see yourself right now.”

He doesn’t respond to Harry’s slightly breathless, awed observation. He doesn’t even bother removing the arm from across his eyes, only grunts and lets his knees fall apart even further. He just needs relief.

He vaguely hears the sound of the other three boys coming into the room as well, back from exploring the venue, and a whine slips past his lips.

“Fuck you, Liam,” he calls shakily, hearing Liam laugh in response from across the room. He whines again weakly, falling into a rant as he palms himself once more. “Goddamn it all, you’re such a bastard. Nngh, fuck, what I did wasn’t _nearly_ as bad—oh god, so good—as this. Shit, _fuck_. Nngh—god, I’m so…fucking cl-close. You better fuck me so h-hard after the show, I swear to god, Li. I hate you so—god—so much for this.”

The room’s gone strangely silent as the four boys listen to the panting, moaning mess of a boy on the couch. He hears Louis whisper to Zayn from across the room (“This really shouldn’t be as hot as it is,”) and Niall finally lifts his arm from his face, fixing wide, distant eyes on Harry, who’s standing over him.

“Please, Harry, h-help me. I need to—I can’t fucking—” Niall groans and rubs his thumb over his slit again, desperate for some sort of relief.

Harry glances over his shoulder, his eyebrows raised for permission, to meet Liam’s heady, affected gaze. Liam chuckles, nods in Niall’s direction, and agrees, “Help him out, then, Harry.”

Harry grins slyly, heading for the table of refreshments set up for them. He piles ice from the ice bucket into the pouch he’s made with a cloth towel lying over the back of a chair before returning to Niall’s side. He hastily tugs Niall’s sweatpants and swiftly places the bag of ice onto Niall’s crotch.

Niall hisses through his teeth, grasping at Harry’s forearm but making no move to push him away. His teeth grind together again, his tongue pressing hard against the back of them.

“Shh, Niall, s’like a cold shower. Make it less uncomfortable,” Harry murmurs softly.

Well. It’s not the relief he’s looking for, exactly, but it works to an extent. The delicious burn is definitely still there every time he moves a fraction and he’s still entirely too hard to go on stage, but at least now he’s not dangerously stuck on the brink of orgasm.

He pulls himself up to a sitting position as Harry removes the makeshift ice pack with a grin.

“Thanks, mate,” Niall mutters tiredly, pulling his pants back up and leaning heavily against the couch.

He can feel the other boys’ eyes drilling holes into him but he keeps his gaze steady and unfocused on the wall opposite him, his attention solely on the friction of his pants against his agitated cock and the smooth plug pressing against his prostate. He shifts. The sensations assaulting him are addicting and horrible, not enough yet way too much, heaven and hell mixed together and making him flushed and feverish.

(He doesn’t even want to think about getting dressed, but soon a roadie gives them the half-hour heads-up and Liam and Zayn are helping him step carefully into his suddenly much-too-tight trousers. He feels absolutely incapacitated with pleasure, but, he figures, there are worse things in life.

_(Just don’t focus on it. Just don’t focus on it. Stop fucking focusing on it, already!))_

They all finally begin making their way into the wings of the stage, stepping over a myriad of cables and maneuvering around countless techies. Niall wonders (not for the first time) if it’s possible for his heart to break right through his chest with the way it’s pounding so painfully against his ribcage.

“Niall,” Liam yells over the fans’ screaming, taking hold of Niall’s forearm and leaning close. “I talked to the soundboard guy. Your mic will be off for the entire show except your solos. Think you can hold it together for that?”

Liam’s eyes adopt that soft, concerned hint as he presses circles into Niall’s skin with his thumb. Niall lets out a sigh of relief, glad that Liam’s taking a bit of pity on him by turning his mic off, as that’s just one less thing for Niall to worry about. He doesn’t think his voice would’ve held for the whole show if he’d had to sing the entire time.

He nods in response, leaning up to press his lips heavily to Liam’s. Liam bites at his lower lip, snaking an arm around Niall’s waist and pulling their bodies flush together. With a hint of a smirk against Niall’s lips, his hand twitches down to pat Niall’s ass and tap the plug through his trousers. Niall gasps into Liam’s mouth and jerks involuntarily against him, pulling away slightly to rest his forehead against the hollow of Liam’s throat.

“Liam,” he whines.

“Good boy,” Liam responds calmly, if not with a light lilt of amusement in his voice. “Safeword?”

Niall breathes, “Batman.”

With that, they pull apart as the video playing on stage reaches an end, and they bound onto the stage into bright camera flashes and deafening screams.

~  
  
  
It’s not as bad as Niall had been expecting. Of course, he’d quickly learned that jumping around on stage was completely and utterly out of the question; he’d have been horrified at the looks of amusement his bandmates threw him if he’d have been able to see them through the white dots dancing in his vision.

(Thank every god from every religion that his mic is off. Explaining away that nerve-freezing moan he’d let loose would’ve been a nightmare.)

Other than that, though, it’s fairly easy to be distracted by the bright lights, the loud screams, the pounding, all-too-familiar music that fills his entire body. Granted, there’s no way he can fully ignore the heavy pull of the plug as he walks, nor the way his dick throbs in the waistband of his briefs, but it’s was easier than he’d assumed to be swept away by the adrenaline of the performance. He can make it through the whole show, no sweat.

Until the boys step in, eager, mischievous grins on their stupid faces.

It starts with small things and only escalates: Harry nonchalantly stepping just a tad too close behind Niall so Niall can feel his hot breath on his neck, Louis casually throwing an arm around Niall’s waist and knocking their hips together to jostle the plug, and then Zayn playfully—yet far too skillfully—pulling at the waistband of Niall’s briefs and letting them snap back against his dick.

Well. Needless to say, Niall’s entirely hyper-sensitized by the time the show’s a quarter over.

They’re in the ‘Autumn’ portion of their show when Liam takes it upon himself to unveil the full force of his torture.

Niall’s just finished his line in ‘Stand Up’ (he makes sure to stay as stiff as possible so he won’t release any unbidden groans at a shift of the plug) and the boys break into the chorus. Niall barely has time to see Liam dodging past him before Liam lands a hard, unforgiving swat on his ass and laughs while bolting to the other side of the stage to watch Niall’s reaction from a safe distance.

Every muscle in his body tenses and screams with pleasure; he turns and shuffles as casually as he can toward the back of the stage, trying his best not to double over at the incredible feeling of the plug scraping at his prostate unrelentingly. His face twists, eyes screwed shut as he tries to gasp in some air, and if he could only stop the soft, breathy moans and whines that keep spilling from his mouth while his muscles flutter uncontrollably around the toy, he might be able to pull himself together.

When he turns his head he can see Liam off to the far side of the stage, trying and failing to hide his sly grin behind his microphone, and Louis’ off to his other side, his eyes glittering and his lips stretched wide with mirth.

Fuckers.

He vaguely hears Zayn belt out the last note of the song and the applause and screams climbing in volume. He still doesn’t turn around, but he’s just starting to regain his composure through deep breaths when he hears Harry explain into his mic.

“Sorry everyone, Niall’s feeling a bit off tonight. Just a little sick, huh Nialler?”

There’s a collective ‘awh’ from audience, and Niall waves a hand blindly behind him to show his appreciation for the fans’ concern. He starts to straighten up, relaxing his face and turning to face the crowd, when Harry appears at his side. He looks over at the curly-haired boy, seeing the mischief in his eyes, and can’t even shake his head pleadingly before Harry smacks his ass, cooing sweetly into his mic, “Awh, how ya feelin’, Niall?”

This time, Niall really does double over, his hands on his knees and angling his mic carefully away so it won’t catch his moan. He pants hard, eyes shut tight and his head reeling, stars flashing behind his eyelids.

He hates these bastards, because they know exactly what they’re doing and they’re making him feel so _good_ but now is not the time and it certainly isn’t the place. And, he thinks idly, if they think the fans won’t notice the over-exaggerated ‘bromances’ tonight, then they’re insane.

God, if the fans really knew what’s actually happening…

He’s too dazed to notice Harry chuckling lightly and leading him over to sit on the couch positioned center-stage. He’s too unfocused to hear Liam’s, “Come ‘ere, Niall,” or feel the older boy pulling him down so he’s perched purposefully against one of Liam’s legs.

The girls in the crowd scream over the sweet moment, but really, all Niall can focus on is not dropping his pants and sitting on Liam’s dick right this very minute.  
  
(Especially when Liam begins bouncing his leg up and down slightly, forcing Niall to bite back a groan at the movement because _Christ above_ —)

He’s so close again, climbing rapidly toward that blinding ecstasy that he knows will never fully take over thanks to the cock ring. He needs…he just needs—

“Alright everyone,” Zayn hollers over the chants and calls of the audience when all the boys come to surround Niall and Liam on the couch. “We’ve got some of your Twitter questions to answer!”

Most of the questions are a blur for Niall, and thankfully, the boys don’t make him answer any of them until the last question shows up on the screen.  
  
“Who’s everyone’s favorite superhero?” Liam reads into his mic, and his eyes immediately flick over to Niall’s, a small, expectant grin gracing his face. Teasing Niall. Daring him.

 _Safeword out. Do it._  
  
“Mine’s Superman, obviously,” Louis chirps, much to the crowd’s delight.

Harry provides, “Mine would have to be Wonder Woman,” with a devilish grin, while Zayn answers, “And mine’s Spiderman, I think.”

Liam’s still eyeing Niall, and Niall’s seriously considering this. He could say it, the safeword. Liam could use the excuse that Niall isn’t feeling well and usher the blonde off stage for just a few minutes to remove the toys; he’s sure that as soon as the cock ring was gone, he’d come harder than ever before. He could be satisfied and back on stage in ten minutes, tops.

_Come on. Say it. Just do it._

“What about you, Niall?”

_Say it._

All four of the boys have their eyes trained on him expectantly, waiting. He almost says it. He really does. But then his nose crinkles and his lips quirk in challenge.  
  
“Don’t really have a favorite,” he rasps, and Liam’s grin grows before he throws his head back against the couch and laughs.

He leans over to hastily whisper into Niall’s ear. “Good boy.”

~

The boys surprisingly (and not at all reassuringly) lay off after that. They leave Niall alone for the following two songs until the five of them rush off stage to change into their ‘Winter’ outfits.

They hear the video playing on stage. They’ve got two minutes.

Niall’s into his new clothes in record time, taking the chance to jump on Liam’s half-dressed self. He wraps his arms around Liam’s bare shoulders, crashing his lips forcefully against Liam’s while Liam lets out a surprised, muffled chuckle before responding enthusiastically.

“Oi, you two,” Zayn hollers while buttoning his shirt. “Wait until after the show at least, we don’t have time!”

The two don’t reply, but after a few seconds Liam pulls back, “Niall, hey,” only to be interrupted by another kiss. “Hey, I have to—” another kiss, “put my—” kiss, “—shirt on.”

Harry, now in his ‘Winter’ outfit as well, steps forward to grab Niall by the waist and pull him off of Liam, who laughs gratefully and pulls his shirt over his head with thirty seconds to spare. Niall, for his part, buries his face in his hands and heaves a desperate sigh.

“I don’t know how much more I can take, guys,” he rasps, voice dropping in a low groan on the last word.

“We’ve only got four songs left,” Liam, now dressed, says, stepping forward to lower his lips to Niall’s ear so only he can hear Liam’s next words. “And then I’m going to bend you over that couch in the dressing room and fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit tomorrow.”

Niall’s eyes roll up into his head, his lids fluttering closed as he lets out a moan at the whispered words. Liam’s breath hot on his neck, the low lilt of promise swimming in his tone, and fuck, the way Liam’s looking at him right now…Niall figures he really can’t be held accountable for the things he’s thinking of doing to Liam right now.

And then Liam steps back and they’re being herded back onto the stage.

~

The rest of the show goes well. They change into their formal attire for the encore, singing through ‘I Want,’ and as they’re saying their goodbyes to the audience, they throw their arms around one another as per usual.

Of course, Liam on one side of Niall and Zayn on the other, he should’ve expected it.

Two surreptitious hands. Niall’s muscles stretching around the plug as it is. Both of those awful, wonderful hands trailing down, pushing against the toy as the boys bow. White spots dancing in Niall’s vision. His jaw dropping slack to accommodate the shameless, guttural moan and garbled string of expletives that, obviously, no one but the boys can hear.

And then Niall’s being tugged off the stage by his arm, stumbling blindly behind Liam. As soon as they’re safely in the darkness of the wings—the very fucking _second_ —Niall’s body is wrapped around Liam’s, his legs vice-like around the strong hips, his arms clinging, his fingers pulling roughly at the sweat-mussed brown hair. Their lips push against each other, hard and demanding and biting and unforgiving and _sososogood_. Niall rocks his hips hard against Liam’s stomach, not bothering to hide the grunt he releases into the other’s mouth.

Niall pulls back just enough to breathe against Liam’s lips, “Batman.” He clings to the hard line of Liam’s chest, sputtering between kisses. “Batman, Batman, _Batman_.”

He holds on tightly, barely registering anything other than the heady scent, taste, and feel of Liam as the older boy swiftly carries him through the labyrinthine corridors and hallways. Liam finally stumbles into their dressing room, kicking the door closed behind them and locking it before striding forward to drop Niall onto the couch, falling between Niall’s legs and reattaching their lips heatedly.

A loud knocking echoes around the otherwise silent room as the other three boys catch up to them.

“Awh come on, we helped!” Louis’ muffled voice calls out from behind the door. “Let us in!”

Liam grins against Niall’s lips, his hands skimming down Niall’s sides until they rest on the thin hips, tugging them closer before flicking the button of Niall’s trousers open and deftly undoing the zipper.

More muffled voices come through the door, but the two boys on the couch are too engrossed in each other to pay them much attention. Niall lets his head fall back with a gasp as Liam’s head drops to bite just below his ear at the same time he pushes Niall’s pants down, his hand wrapping tightly around the freed, straining dick.

“Fine,” Louis calls out again, “if you won’t let us join, at least let us watch!”

Niall outright laughs at this, a loud Niall-laugh tinged with a breathy, lustful moan as Liam lifts his head to press his lips against Niall’s ear. He still hasn’t stopped stroking Niall’s aching dick.

“Do you know how you looked on stage, all hot and helpless like that?”

No, Niall doesn’t know. He was too busy focusing on trying not to come in front of their fans. But, well.

Liam nips at Niall’s earlobe before he lifts himself up off the smaller body, cutting off all contact. Niall’s eyes flick open, blinking dazedly up at Liam, now standing over him. Liam’s eyes are darkened, his pupils blown wide.

“Get up.”

Niall scrambles to his feet as quickly as he can, the plug protesting as he shifts. Liam immediately drops his hands to Niall’s hips, leading him around until the tops of his thighs rest against the arm of the couch. Then, placing his hand between Niall’s shoulder blades, he pushes Niall down over the arm of the couch so he’s bent at the waist. Niall groans throatily as his body contorts around the plug and his restricted dick presses against the cool leather.

“Oh fuck, Liam, oh fucking hell—”

Liam doesn’t respond, only skirts his hands over the flushed skin revealed as Niall’s shirt rides up around the middle of his back. Niall supports himself on his elbows and looks over his shoulder just as Liam bites, sucks, and licks a hickey into the small of Niall’s back. His fingers toy with the edges of the sleek black plug, twisting it and tugging on it while Niall keens into the couch cushions. Liam looks up enough to see Niall’s fingers clenched into fists, his knuckles white, and he grins against the sweating skin of Niall’s back.

“Are you ready, Niall?” He asks softly, dangerously.

Niall lets out a high whine through gritted teeth, nodding frantically and pushing back against Liam’s hands because he’s never been more ready for anything in his life, he doesn’t think. Liam allows himself a soft chuckle, and, within the span of a second, yanks the plug from Niall’s body and replaces it with his dick with a quick shove. He immediately starts up a furious pace, not allowing Niall a moment to adjust because he knows Niall neither needs nor wants it. He angles himself perfectly against Niall’s prostate, pounding hard, growling and groaning because this was _such_ a good idea.

There’s no way Niall’s going to last long, even with the cock ring, he’s that far gone. The sounds tearing from his throat are jumbled, screams and pleas with no definitive structure; he can’t even remember what muscles to use to form words and—oh _god_ , what’s his name again?

He grasps at anything he can, the edge of the couch, the cushions, anything to get some purchase against Liam’s rough thrusts. His cheek scrapes against the leather and he just lets himself _feel_ ; the gentle scratch of Liam’s stubble as he leans over Niall to nuzzle at the back of his neck, the burning stretch that’s still there underneath the overwhelming pleasure, the pressure of Liam’s fingertips on his hipbones, holding them at an angle for better access.

Liam’s own hips crash forward, growing erratic and all the more desperate to bring them both over the edge, Niall’s garbled chanting echoing his own moans. Just as his hips began to falter, he reaches around to stroke Niall’s dick.

“Come for me, Niall,” he murmurs in Niall’s ear, all soft and sultry before he quickly stretches the cock ring down and off Niall’s length.

And Niall explodes around him, stars dancing in his eyes.

Hitched gasps and sobs and screams fill the room as Niall’s muscles flutter around Liam, and Liam can’t do much more than ground out a final, strangled moan as he tumbles into blind bliss, shuddering through his own orgasm.

Liam collapses against Niall’s back and for a few moments, they stay like that, chests heaving and muscles shaking from the aftershocks. Liam smiles against Niall’s skin before standing up straight, pulling back from the smaller body and carefully maneuvering the exhausted blonde so he’s lying across the couch. Niall, for his part, doesn’t open his eyes, only snuggles against the cushions as a small grin inches onto his face.

“Niall?”

Niall presses his cheek against the cool leather, eyes still closed, and hums in acknowledgment.

“You okay?”

“Mmm.”

“How d’you feel?”

“Mmm.”

Liam chuckles. “Are you going to do anything other than lay there and hum at me?”

“Mmm.” Niall’s smile grows cheekily, and he finally opens an eye to look up at Liam. With fatigued difficulty, he rolls over onto his back and wave Liam down.

Liam gives a sated grin (which Niall happily returns) and lays himself gently onto Niall, careful not to rest his full weight on him. Niall drapes his arms around Liam’s neck and pulls him down to press their lips sloppily together.

“That was the most mind-blowing fuck ever. Jesus.”

Liam drops his forehead to rest against Niall’s collarbone, laughing loudly. He loves how brazen and blunt Niall can be—it’s not the first time the word shameless has come to mind where Niall’s concerned.

“I’d say you’ve learned your lesson, huh?” Liam says as Niall begins to card his fingers through his hair. “You won’t play little pranks on me before shows anymore, will you?”

Niall laughs loudly, the sound reverberating through his chest and thrumming pleasantly against Liam’s ears.

“Oh, no, if that’s your revenge, I’m gunna prank you before every show.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeeep. I hope you guys liked this blatant excuse for voyeuristic teasing and porn oops


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